


this could be the end of everything

by wolfwalkerspirit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwalkerspirit/pseuds/wolfwalkerspirit
Summary: “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list,” Bellamy said quietly. But there was so much resolve steeled in his voice that when he said it, it sounded like fact. Even though her name was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn’t bring herself to add it. If she was the one deciding who to throw to the wolves, who to poison with radiation, then she didn’t deserve to be safe inside the Ark’s walls.“Bellamy, I can’t.”OrAn extended scene at the end of 4x03.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79
Collections: Already read them





	this could be the end of everything

In the end, she could only save one hundred. The same damned number that had started the whole mess on the ground. But unlike back then, when she was naive and innocent and at the mercy of everyone else above her, she had the weight of the decision on her shoulder this time. She got to choose who lived and who died, and all it took was the scratch of pen on paper. And with every name she wrote, with every person she granted safety, she doomed dozens more to suffer their chances against the radiation. She could only save one hundred, and space was running thin with ninety-eight already decided. And yet, she couldn’t help but make room for Bellamy. Because if there was one person on the whole planet she couldn’t bear the weight of sacrificing, it was Bellamy Blake. 

Even then, when she felt like she was crumbling under the pressure, he was right there for her. Just a few feet off, he dozed on the couch, only a step away if she needed a mind to strategize with or a shoulder to lean on. Still, even asleep, she could pick out the near permanent worry creasing his features, the slight furrow of his brow, the gentle downturn of his lips. And if he opened his eyes, Clarke was sure they would reflect back the hurt and guilt that nearly always seemed present anymore. Though, even with all the hate and anger, the fear and regret, he always kept a melting gaze when she met his eyes, warm and gentle. 

A knot forming in her throat, Clarke turned her attention away. He didn’t deserve this. None of them did. The world had been nothing if not cruel to them from the moment they came back down to it. And now they all had ghosts and sins to bear because of it. But Bellamy wouldn’t be one of hers. Even if his spot on the list could have been better served by a scientist, a mechanic, a farmer, she just couldn’t bring herself to give it up. 

The realization had her eyes misting over, a stubborn, steely grip tightening around her heart. It was her responsibility as a leader to be fair and impartial, but she just couldn’t. And that was what brought tears down her cheeks. The weight of lives hung on her shoulders, but she chose Bellamy over all of them. Because she loved him and couldn’t live or die without knowing she had done everything she could to protect him. 

The final spot haunted her, waiting in the low lantern light, but she just couldn’t handle it, not then. Chest pulling tight, she set down the pen and tried to fight against the heat and moisture pooling in her eyes, the guilt turning her stomach, the suffocating ache in her lungs. She pulled a shaky breath in, let it out, and resolved to look anywhere but that dreaded list. No matter the cost, no matter the weight, she just needed to calm down and think and write the last person’s name before she broke over it. 

Bellamy’s stirring, his quiet inhale, broke her a little from the unrelenting pressure. But the relief at having him awake, alive, at her side, fractured in an instant, because she knew he would fight. Because he was emotional and impulsive and fiercely protective above everything else. 

His gaze skimmed the list, and her breath held in her chest, something between dread and exhaustion washing over her. Desperately, Clarke just wanted to be finished with the tough decision and life ending choices. She just wanted to be done with it all. 

“If I’m on that list, you’re on that list,” Bellamy said quietly. But there was so much resolve steeled in his voice that when he said it, it sounded like fact. Even though her name was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn’t bring herself to add it. If she was the one deciding who to throw to the wolves, who to poison with radiation, then she didn’t deserve to be safe inside the Ark’s walls. 

“Bellamy, I can’t.” Her voice broke over the words, more tears slipping. There was already so much blood on her hands; she couldn’t be responsible for one more death, not when the cost of saving them was her own life. That was something she could pay to keep them safe. 

“Write it down...“ Bellamy started, trailing to catch her gaze, to steady her. “Write it down, or I will,” he said decisively. 

Helpless, Clarke just gave a slight shake of her head. And that was all the answer he needed. Quietly, gently, he slid the page away from her and took up the pen. In his distinct handwriting, he wrote out her name with so much care that it ached, somewhere deep in her chest. And when he finished, he capped the pen and slid it back, quiet resolve and compassion clear in his eyes. 

For a moment, everything just... settled. Bellamy stood, Clarke glanced down at the list, blinking to clear the blur of tears, and the atmosphere slowly shifted to something closer, something more personal. Business and leadership and decisions were done, and all that was left were raw hearts and a bone-weariness so deep Clarke wasn’t sure it would ever fade. For so long, she had fought and struggled against it, trying to shake off a problem she knew would be chasing her the rest of her life. But with Bellamy’s hand coming to rest on her shoulder, warm, real, she finally leaned into it. Eyes fluttering shut, she let out the breath she’d been holding locked in her chest, letting him ground her. 

But some deep, buried sort of longing still ached in her heart, call it loneliness, call it love, so she clasped a hand over his and let her head fall to rest against them. Slowly, a little of the tension seeped from her muscles, and when she pulled in another shaky breath, he leaned in just a little closer. She didn’t know how she’d lived so long without him before, because now, he was her everything. Without him, Clarke knew she would crack, falter, drive herself insane with all of the horrible things she had to face. But Bellamy kept her anchored, kept her alive, and he was always there when she really needed him. 

“You’re worth it, Clarke,” Bellamy said quietly. “I promise you, you’re worth it,” he insisted, thumb rubbing soothing circles against her shoulder blade. 

At his words, Clarke’s breath hitched in her throat, eyes burning all over again. She fought against the tears, weakly wiping at her cheeks with the fabric at her wrist. She didn’t want to cry anymore, but Bellamy’s assurances, his faith in her, were too much. Anymore, he knew just how to round out the sharp edges of everything that cut into her mind, her heart. Like a river turning rocks over and over again until they came out smooth, he knew how to wear away at her problems until they seemed just a little less pressing. And when he couldn’t do that, couldn’t do anything, he assured her that everything she did was enough.

“Not after the things I’ve done,” Clarke breathed, cried. She couldn’t tell the difference between the two anymore, every breath coming shaky and wet with tears. 

Bellamy’s grip on her shoulder tightened a little, just for a moment. “Look at me,” he said, sinking down to meet her level where she sat. Steeling her resolve a little, blinking back the heat and moisture in her eyes, Clarke found it in her to meet Bellamy’s gaze. Her heart lurched a little at the emotion swirling in his eyes, serious and longing, intense. 

“I won’t live without you, Clarke. I can’t. So if you think you don’t deserve to live, then I don’t either,” he rasped, raw, genuine care bleeding into his voice. 

His words sunk in deep, buried into the soft spots left in her heart, where her guard had cracked and fallen. And when she didn’t answer right away, a kind hand came to rest against her jaw. Bellamy gingerly brushed away the last of the moisture and salt that clung to her cheeks, his gaze never straying from hers. The intensity behind his eyes held so many things left unspoken, and more than anything else, he looked desperate for her to understand, to believe the things he had said. 

“I need you too,” she finally said, a little thick and syrupy with emotion. It was as close to ‘I love you’ as either of them could handle, so it was what she settled on. 

Bellamy only let out a shuddering breath, leaned in close, and pressed his forehead to hers. Though, Clarke could only sink into it, savor it, for a moment before he was pulling away again and standing back to his full height. His hand fell away from her jaw, back to his side, and she missed the warmth of it there. It took all her strength not to give in to the wanting and chase his supportive touch. 

For a what felt like a long while, no one spoke. Only the occasional noise from farther in the compound broke the quiet, aside from their slowly calming, steadying breaths. The lantern light was pale but warm, enough to illuminate the space, even though Clarke would have been glad to never see the paper scattered across her desk ever again. Still, eventually, Bellamy was the one to disrupt the relative peace, shifting his weight back subtly, a hardly perceptible slant. Clarke felt more than saw the distance it put between them, like the pull of magnets weakening with space. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

After a beat of consideration, Clarke swallowed, nodded, brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. Sometimes, everything felt like too much, like it was suffocating her, but she had always gotten passed it. And this was no different. No matter what it took, she would get back up when the earth knocked her down with all its force. Because that was survival, and that was her responsibility to her people. She had to be there for them, to watch out for them.

But, that didn’t make it any easier. 

“I’m just so tired,” Clarke sighed, meaning it in every sense of the word. Besides her heavy lidded eyes and aching limbs, she was tired of fighting tooth and nail every day just to make it out alive. She was sick of having to make impossible choice after impossible choice, and she was beyond tired of having to deal with the ghosts and nightmares that plagued her nights, waiting in dark corners and dark thoughts alike. 

“Hey, come here,” Bellamy said, and he offered her a hand. As soon as she took it, she was pulled up out of her chair and into his arms instead. Held tight against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his back, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. Even if she knew better, knew he wasn’t going anywhere, she held him like he would dissipate the moment she let him go. Close, and a little desperate. All the while, he tucked his face into the crook of her neck, every breath warm and reassuring against her skin. 

Slowly, he rocked her back and forth, and something warm and fuzzy filled Clarke’s chest. The feeling washed over her, pleasantly soothing, and she held him a little tighter, breathed him in. No matter the circumstances, from somber comfort to relieved reunions, hugging Bellamy felt like coming back to a home she never knew she had been longing for, and that was something she couldn’t find anywhere else. Home. Because for her, he was it. He was warmth and comfort and belonging, even with the world falling apart around them. 

But eventually, he eased back, and Clarke reluctantly released her hold on him. “You need to get some sleep,” he told her. And when her gaze flickered over to the couch he had been napping on just a few moments earlier, an exasperated grin just barely touched the edges of his lips. But there was something fond in it, knowing. 

“In a real bed,” he added. Softly, his hand came to rest against the small of her back, and Clarke let him guide her there without a fight. In her head, she knew there were things that needed to be taken care of, people in medbay she needed to check up on, projects that would never be finished in time, but she just couldn’t bring herself to move from Bellamy’s steadying presence, or the promise of a soft bed. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had gotten any real sleep, not just naps caught in the passenger seat of the rover or passed out at her desk. 

Kicking off her boots, Clarke settled into the covers, the exhaustion of days and days finally catching up and hitting hard. Though, as she laid down, she noticed Bellamy was still there, waiting, watching, like he didn’t trust her not to get up and start working again the moment he turned away. Her heart throbbed a little in her chest at the thought of another night alone, at watching him turn his back and walk out the door. And before she could stop herself, she reached out to catch his wrist, slid her hand down until she could lace her fingers with his. 

“Could you stay?” 

The question hung heavy in the air, and as soon as the words fell from her lips, she knew they were more than the sum of their parts. It wasn’t just a question of staying the night, but the emotion attached. There was so much more meaning there than such a simple invitation usually held, and from the shift in Bellamy’s gaze, she knew he heard it too. Gone was the subtle protective glint, the easy watchfulness, all replaced with something complex and layered that glimmered like shattered glass in the lowlight—a little broken but captivating nonetheless. 

The silence stretched on long enough, fragile and delicate and so, so breakable, that Clarke was tempted to brush away the notion altogether with a tired apology, an excuse that the exhaustion was impairing her judgement. It wasn’t. But, she didn’t know how else to repair the armor plating around the opened, vulnerable places in her heart. 

Before she had the chance, though, something warm flickered across Bellamy’s lips, and it almost looked like a smile. “Yeah,” he said, slow and hesitant. Then, when she visibly relaxed, the worry draining from her tense shoulders and the crease between her brows, his almost-smile eased into something full and real. “Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said, and this time it was with such certainty that her heart warmed a little. 

Clarke slid over to make him room while Bellamy, much more gracefully than she had done, unknotted his laces and set his boots neatly beside her toppled ones. And when he climbed in beside her, giving a contented sigh as he settled under the sheets, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like, all this time, to have him to come back to after bitter, brutal days, to have him to wake up to after long nights. The thought poked and prodded enough at her sore spots that she let it go before before regret could settle in. Because he was there, then, and nothing in their turbulent past or future could take that away. 

Shifting onto her side, Clarke turned his way, dark curls filling her sight. “Bellamy,” she said gently, and her fingertips skimmed his shoulder blade, just enough to catch his attention. His skin was warm beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. 

“Yeah,” he answered, hardly more than a breathy whisper, and rolled over to catch her gaze. 

“Thank you, really,” Clarke said. Already, she could feel the pull of sleep washing over her, finding it harder and harder to focus on Bellamy’s gaze across from her. Everything seemed quieter, calmer, like all of the periphery had filtered out and faded away, and all that was left was him. 

“Whatever you need.” The words came ginger and quiet, and the sentiment was so soft, the kind of warm tenderness she rarely, rarely heard from him. The world had steeled him the same way it had her. When they first came to the ground, she had been naive and stubborn and hopeful, sure they could handle everything that came their way, horribly sheltered to the reality of the ground. And even if Bellamy had shed that rosy—if not rosy than at least softened—outlook long before she had, he was still changed and hardened by their time on the ground. 

Breathing out a sigh, Clarke shifted a little closer until she could feel the subtle heat of him. And Bellamy took that step in stride, taking one of his own and closing the distance between them. In one easy move, he tucked her head beneath his chin, settled a hand on her shoulder, and took in a breath deep enough she could feel his chest rise with it. And, despite herself, Clarke let the contentment fill her up, let it settle in every cut and gash and bruise, both inside and out. Because even if she didn’t deserve it, she felt like there was finally one person who would stick by her unconditionally, no matter the bad choices she made or the arguments the two of them inevitably got into.

Secure in that, Clarke let her eyes fall shut, pulse slowing and soothing to match the rhythm of Bellamy’s thumb absently rubbing a short line up and down over her shoulder. And even if the world was literally decaying, dying, all around them, it was the first time in a long time that Clarke felt safe. Every responsibility and danger had been left at her desk, and all that was left was her and him. Home. And in that moment, that was enough for her.


End file.
